What the Actual Fu
by exacerbatedEmbarrassment
Summary: Something is living in Karkat's walls, and he is going to find out what. (Eventual Johnkat. Loosely parallels WhisperedFaith. TW for violence, suspense, mental illness, etc.)
1. Chapter 1

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You breath heavily, panting in the darkness in your fear.

It's happening again. Something's here. Something's in your _walls_ and you don't know _what_ and you're _freaking out_.

You reach blindly over onto your nightstand, hand flailing until you find your camera. Turning it on, you breath a small sigh of relief as a bit of light floods the room. The scratching continues, however, and you swallow a large gulp of air in an attempt to calm down. You point the camera at your undoubtedly pale face.

"Hey, this is Karkat," you begin, voice shaky. "It is..." You take a moment to glance over to the clock by your bed. "3:47 in the god damn morning." You pause for a moment as the scratching seems to come closer. You take a big, calming breath once more, and continue talking to your camera. "I told myself I'd start recording this heap of horseshit if it happens again, and take a fucking look, it is. I'm freaking the fuck out. I am in shambles. I am nothing more than a quivering mass of tortured psyche and possible hallucinations at the moment. I'm just...

"I'm scared."

You run a hand through your wildly messy black hair, shuddering as the noises continue. You wait a few minutes for it to stop like it usually does, but it just won't quit.

Eyes wet and blurry, palms clammy, you get out of bed. Your foot gently touches the icy floor of your bedroom, sending goosebumps flying up your limbs.

And like a switch had been flipped, the scratching stops.

"Fuck." You whisper in a voice an octave higher than normal. Your eyes remain fixed on the spot on the wall you think the noises were coming from.

Putting one small, terrified foot in front of the other, camera in hand, you make your way over to the wall of your bedroom. "I'm so fucking stupid. This is so fucking stupid. I should leave. I should leave. I should leave."

Against your better judgment, you raise one hand and curl it into a fist. You very, very slowly reach that shaking hand to the wall, lean forward, press your ear against the cold paint, and knock.

You wait a moment, sure that your heart has stopped beating, positive that you have stopped breathing, and then close your eyes in relief. Nothing happened.

Just as you make to pull away from the wall, a short knock reaches your ear both in sound and vibration.

You gasp, reeling back, falling on your ass in the process. You somehow manage to keep hold on the camera. "Oh my fucking god. Fuck this. Fuck this so fucking hard, I'm done. I'm done, I'm done, I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. Oh, fuck. Jesus fucking dickshit please please please..."

Scrambling backward toward your door, hyperventilating, you manage to get back on your feet. You outright sprint down the stairs of your home and through the front door.

You spend the rest of the night in your car.


	2. Chapter 2

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You wake up with your face plastered to the steering wheel of your shitty car. You stretch as much as you can in the confined space, groaning as your joints pop.

Well. It's time to get to work.

You stumble out of your car, grumbling a bit as the metal bit of the seat belt catches in the door before you successfully slam the entrance shut. Taking a deep breath, you look up at your home.

It's a relatively nice size. Your father was a famous preacher before he disappeared, and received a wealth of donations that he then left to you. The house is a two story thing, with light blue siding and a short front lawn. It's big and empty and all yours. You suspect as of late, however, that it isn't quite as empty as you would like to think.

The camera you find yourself still clutching beeps at you, letting you know that its battery is low and it is _time to get inside._

You creep up to the front door, goosebumps on your arms as you open it up. You take a quick glance around the foyer before shrugging. Seems clear.

Once you reach your bedroom, you sit yourself down in your smelly swivel chair in front of your stained computer desk. The SD card in the video camera comes out with a _pop_ when you press on it. You shove it into the side of your laptop, which buzzes frantically as it brings up your video editing software. You look through the events of last night.

_"Oh my fucking god. Fuck this. Fuck this so fucking hard, I'm done..."_ Even you cringe at how easily spooked your past self is. But it was dark and scary, you rationalize, and you aren't very good with dark and scary.

You go through the video again, and listen to the answering knock about seven times. Okay, so what if there's _apparently _a rat or something in your walls? So what if it _apparently _has humanoid appendages and is out to make you shit your trousers? You can deal with it.

Heaving a sigh, you debate whether or not it would be worth it to upload the video to your YouTube channel. You told a few of your friends about the weird noises in your house and they said they were interested, so you figured you would videotape some paranormal horseshit and feed it to their ganderbulbs and maybe prove that you're not crazy. But you acted so lame in that video.

What the fuck ever, you got the footage, you're uploading it. Fucking John can go shove a gerbil into his anal cavity if he decides to laugh at you.

* * *

You wake up with a start. Something crashed downstairs.

Anxiety creeping in through your skin, you inch your hand toward your camera and turn it on with a press of your thumb. You point it toward your face, just as you did three nights ago.

"Karkat again." Another _crash _from downstairs has you flinching hard. "I'm not sure if this is some bullshit possum that came in through the nonexistent doggy door or a spectral douchebag rummaging through my personal shit, but just in case, I'm going to document it. If the situation involves the latter, well. At least someone will get a laugh out of watching the video of my undoubtedly gruesome descent into hell."

Smoothing out your night shirt to disguise your shakiness, you slide out of bed and once again find your feet hugging the icy fucking tundra of hardwood floor in December.

You reach your bedroom door and pull it open. You almost faint on the spot when what sounds like metal pots hit linoleum floor. Fucking shit, you can't deal with this. No, no, no, you have to. You have to figure out what's been terrorizing you.

One stair step at a time, one broken plate or bowl or fallen piece of cutlery per step. Your head is dizzy at this point and your legs and arms are starting to go numb. Damn, you haven't had a panic attack in a long time; it would suck if you had one now.

You have now reached the narrow wall that partially divides the kitchen from the living room, adjacent to the staircase. All you need to do is peer around it and you'll see what's been driving you insane.

A deep breath. You place a hand on the wall to brace yourself, and, as though diving into a pool of cold water, thrust your body around the corner in one go.

A mixing bowl settles on the floor. Otherwise, there is no movement.

You take a few steps into the kitchen and stop right in front of the island in the center. You still feel like you're about to pass out, still under the effects of an adrenaline rush. The camera shakes in your hand.

Then you see the basement door across from you start to open.

A hand, your own, flies to cover you mouth to prevent you from screaming. You duck behind the island, right on the edge, and peek around the corner. Something is moving. You turn back around too fast to see what, but it looked close to the ground and _big_. The camera's light is on, however, and it is pointed toward your face, angled so that it just might have a view of what came out of the basement.

What came out of the basement. Holy fucking mother of Jesus lord have mercy something _came out of the basement_.

This is where you die. You're sure of it.

The camera switches off without your doing. You're lucky your hand is still on your mouth, otherwise you definitely would have shrieked.

You sit there for probably an hour, listening for movement. Nothing happens.

You're alive.


	3. Chapter 3

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You groan, pushing up on the linoleum floor to get into a sitting position. Your head is pounding.

"What the fuck?" You ask no one in particular. Then you remember what happened last night. "_Shit._ Shit." You woke up on the kitchen floor, camera in hand, unharmed. But the fact remains that you saw something open your basement door and crawl out of it.

You have a recording.

You shoot up to your feet, intent on getting to your computer as fast as possible. All you succeed in doing is worsening your headache.

After a moment, you start walking toward your bedroom, the need to review the video outweighing the fear of running into that thing. You need to do this. You sprint up the stairs.

Once again at your old computer desk, you go through the motions of popping the SD card out of the camera and slamming it into your laptop. You open the video from the previous night.

You see yourself looking into the camera with fear lining your face. "_Karkat again._" You roll your eyes at the following little monologue and flinch again at the crashes you can hear in the background. You feel the same anxiety and adrenaline you did the first time around.

A mixing bowl settles on the floor of your kitchen in the video. You're getting really fucking close to what you want to see.

The basement door slowly opens. _Shit._ The view shakes as though you were in the middle of an earthquake when you duck behind the island. The camera settles, looking toward you. Your hand is clamped tight on your mouth, and you're breathing heavily. Then the camera adjusts, and you see it.

Your heart drops to your stomach. You become light headed and you hear a buzzing in your ears. What the actual fuck is that thing? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

A flesh-toned humanoid _thing _drags itself out of the basement. From what you can see, it doesn't have a face. It appears to be fully naked, its body moving jerkily and slowly across the kitchen floor, bent at odd angles and made of sharp edges. You shake in terror.

That thing was right behind you. It's probably still in the house.

You pack a few changes of clothes into a backpack, grab your laptop and the camera, and leave without looking back.

* * *

You're still shaking when John answers the door.

"Shit, dude, you look like you're about to fall over dead!" John exclaims after looking you up and down. You nod your head in affirmation, sure that you probably _will _fall over dead, and John drags you inside of the apartment he shares with his father, leading you to a couch.

"What happened, man?" John sits next to you on the couch, one leg tucked up under him in order to face you. You take a shuddering breath.

"There's something in my house." You blink away a few tears, trying not to be the crybaby John always calls you. "I just... It's easier if I just show you."

You pull your laptop out of the backpack you brought in with you and set it on your lap. John looks at you, confusion evident in his eyes when you bring up the video. "Just watch this." Shoving the laptop onto John, you run a hand through your hair, trying to come off as just a little tired rather than completely terrified.

The confusion slowly leaves John's face, replaced by, of all things, _amusement._

"What the cockshitting fuck are you grinning at, Egbert?" You snarl. John looks over to you, surprised.

"Didn't you stage that? I bet you stuffed Dave into that morph suit, ha. I was actually a little scared for a minute." You glare daggers at John. "Yeah, uh... I didn't know you were such a good actor! That was super sweet, man." Your glare intensifies.

"That wasn't _fake_, John. That was real." You can't believe how fucking stupid this asshole is. Why would you show up on his doorstep looking like you're about to shit your pants just to show him a fucking jump scare?

"No way. You're lying, I can see it in your face, you dweeb." John gives a little nervous laugh. His face loses its awkward mirth as you continue glaring at him. "There's no way in hell that thing is real."

"Think again, dipshit." You have to pause to take a breath here; you're almost crying. You're just so fucking scared. "It's a real thing that is living in my house. Which is why I'm moving into yours."

"If this is a prank, Karkat, I'll admit it's a pretty good one." He looks off to the side for a moment, and then looks back at you. "You're lying." Your eyes narrow in fury. "Okay, okay, whatever. I believe you." John heaves a sigh. "You can stay here for a while, but I think we should check your house out. Look for that thing."

You give him an incredulous look. "Are you fucking insane, Egbert?"

"Probably. I just think you need to take your house back. Plus if we catch it, we could like, sell it to someone? Become millionaires or something." John shrugs.

"That is the dumbest shit I have ever heard come out of your mouth in _years_, John. Possibly ever." You shake your head furiously. "I'm not going back there. No way in fuck."

"Ugh, fine, whatever. We can talk about this more later. Right now, you need to unwind." Your friend wiggles his eyebrows. "If you catch my drift. Hehe."

"You insufferable prick." Still, you get up off the couch and head toward his room, intent on playing some video games. Bro bonding time or something like that. "Come on, John, don't keep me waiting."

John laughs behind you. The two of you play mindless video games for hours, then decide to head to bed when John's dad comes home.

You just hope it's over.


	4. Chapter 4

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You wake up in John's bed, your friend asleep on the floor beside you. You slept well for the first time in a long ass time; since even before the thing took up residence in your home. You suppose that's just the effect John has on you; best friends do tend to be a source of comfort for most people.

With a tap of your finger, you wake your phone up long enough to see that it is currently 10:42 in the morning. Not your usual 6:00 AM, but a nice reprieve.

Reaching out with your foot, you bump John in the shoulder with your big toe. "John. John. Wake up, you baby sucking fuckmonger."

John groans at you, rolling over and swatting your foot away. "Lemme sleep, asshat."

You laugh mirthlessly; you are a merciless god, and let you be damned if you would let this douchebag sleep. You reach out further with your leg, curling your foot so that your toes rest right under John's nose, and you jerk your leg up. John shoots backward in an effort to avoid having your (not so) beautifully smelling toes shoved up his nasal cavity. You snort as John sputters.

"You giant asshole! God, I should just kick you out of my house right now." John looks away pointedly, pouting and rubbing his nose. You don't hesitate to laugh hysterically.

"Your..." You have to pause, laughter bubbling up from your lungs with you doubled over on the bed. "Your face, though!"

John just pouts with more intensity, but after a moment can't help but to burst out laughing as well. "Why do I even put up with you?" He manages to choke out between snorts.

"You love me, you dumb fuck. Admit it!" You shout at John, pursing your lips and blowing a kiss at him. This only results in John laughing harder, falling over onto his back with his legs kicking in the air.

"Yes, Karkat Vantas! My one true love, take me now!" John shrieks, face bright red from the ferocity of his giggles. A knock on John's bedroom door has both of you silent in a fraction of a second.

"Don't wake up the entire complex, boys!" Comes the muffled voice of John's dad from the other side of the door. You and John both blush in embarrassment for a moment before the two of you break into a new fit of snickering, albeit much quieter this time.

You wish this moment would never end.

This is the last time you laugh for the next two years.

* * *

You and John decide to check your house out a few hours later that same day. John is excited for the "adventure", claiming to be ready for whatever comes at you two; you, on the other hand, are terrified. You really, really don't want to do this. But you have John with you this time, so maybe it'll be okay.

You gently press on the brake of your car, slowing to a stop by the curb right in front of your home. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the car, John hot on your heels.

"Okay. We're here. We are now in the vicinity of the area within which a terrible monster, most likely intent on devouring us all with its jagged teeth and incredibly acidic digestive juices, lies in wait for yours truly to fall into its trap of-"

"Karkat, shut the hell up for a second, I'm trying to open your trunk but I can't do that without your key."

"Right. Sorry." You turn back around to face John and do not hesitate to violate the lock on your trunk with your car key, popping the door open. John pulls out a flashlight and, of all things, a hunting knife.

"Where did you get that? When did you even have time to put that in my car?" You ask incredulously.

"Not important! I'm being prepared." John says with a shit-eating grin, twirling the flashlight in his hand. "Now, onward! Into the depths of hell."

You sigh theatrically, and trudge up to the front door. You left it unlocked, you realize, and suddenly you're a little bit more apprehensive about what you'll find.

The door falls open with a creak when you push on it. You get a strong sense of déjà vu when you peer around the darkened foyer. The shades have been mysteriously drawn, sending the house into an odd shadow. You distantly notice your hand trembling.

A push from behind you sends you stumbling with a yelp. "John! What the fuck, you ass licker?" You whisper-yell.

"You were just standing there!" John whispers back, rolling his eyes. You harrumph and continue into the house, fists clenched.

"Let's start at the attic and work our way down to the basement." You say. Honestly, basements have always freaked you out, and you want to put off checking it out for as long as possible.

"Works for me." John replies, and the two of you sidle up the stairs, you sticking close to the wall, half expecting something to fly at you from the top. Nothing does.

To get to the room with the entrance to the attic, you pass through the hallway. Every door is open. Every single one. You look briefly into different rooms as you walk, and they're all absolutely _trashed._ Tables flipped over, drawers emptied onto the floor, everything out of order. You're shaking even harder now.

You're even more sure that something is wrong as soon as you step foot into the back room.

There's this... Whispering. It sounds like multiple people whispering all at once, all with difference pitches and frequencies. But the sounds don't form words, almost like they're being played backward? The sound gets louder as you approach the string that pulls down the staircase to the attic.

John stops dead behind you when he hears it too.

"What the actual fuck is that sound? Is there someone up there?" Your friend whispers fearfully. "This has to be some prank someone is pulling on you, man. There is no way something could make that noise _naturally._"

"That's the thing, John. I don't think this _is_ natural." You're shaking hard. If John expects you to go up there, he has another thing coming. You will refuse. "Please don't go up there, John."

John breaths in, then out. "We have to find out what's going on, Karkat. We both know you'll never sleep well again until we make sense of this." He walks around you slowly and silently, as though afraid of spooking whatever is making that godforsaken noise, then pulls gently on the string. The staircase comes down and unfolds almost unbearably loudly. You both flinch.

The whispering only gets louder after that. Your head feels light and your feet feel like lead. _Fuck_ you're terrified. There's a creaking sound, as though something is moving around, pushing boxes.

John puts one foot on the staircase, then another. He takes a few steps, and the whispering gets progressively louder. Then, when John's head reaches just barely above the ceiling, it just... Stops. It vanishes like it was never there in the first place. John audibly gulps.

When John gets his eyes past the ceiling, he takes a moment to hesitantly peer around, then he sighs. "Looks like there's nothing up here. I'm, um. I'm gonna look around for a minute." He then pulls himself all the way up into the attic and crawls out of your sight.

That's when you hear him scream.

"John? John! Oh, god, John!" You shriek. Your feet are glued to the floor, however, and you can't move. Then John laughs nervously.

"Uh, I just. Got a little spooked by my shadow. I'm okay!" If you weren't about to faint, you would go up there and smack John yourself. You growl.

"Just hurry up, John!" You yell. You vaguely hear an affirmative grunt.

A few minutes later, you hear him make a little sound in surprise. "I think I found something! There's, um, this big hole in the wall."

"Don't go in, Joh-"

"I'm going to look around inside!" Fuck.

Everything is mostly silent for another couple minutes. You think you hear the whispering on and off behind you, but when you turn around, nothing is ever there. You don't think you can handle looking around the rest of the house at this point.

Just then, John comes out of no where and starts hopping down the steps, scaring the shit out of you.

"Jesus fuck, Egbert!" You flinch away from him, but he just laughs again.

"Hey, Karkat." He greets you. "So, I found this box in the hole up there." You then notice the odd wooden box he's holding. It's light, plain, and rectangular. You get an earth-shakingly bad vibe from it immediately.

"If we open that, and that's a big _if, _we are not doing it here. We're going back to your house right now. I can't take any more of this haunted house bullshit." You cross your arms over your torso as though you were cold, and take a step toward John. His presence is definitely a comfort here, where there is little comfort anywhere else. John looks like he agrees.

"Yeah, okay. I don't like it in here, either."

You book it out of there.


End file.
